The Yellow Press
by LadybirdSauce
Summary: Five years after the war, Severus and Hermione are caught in a compromising position by Rita Skeeter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: My first ever fanfic! This is EWE, and obviously Snape's alive, but other than that it should be fairly canon-compliant. I'd love it if you could read and review and let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, I'm not making any money, and everything is JKR's. I just like to play in her world sometimes.**

* * *

One month. For one month Severus Snape had managed to avoid making an appearance in wizarding society. For one month he had dealt almost entirely with muggles, and conducted all of his magical affairs via owl. According to Mr Jiggers Jr. however (this would never have been so difficult when his father ran the apothecary) any change to such a large standing order of potions ingredients would require a face-to-face consultation. And so it was that Severus Snape found himself stalking down Diagon Alley, scowl etched into his features, cursing the foolish, floppy-haired man under his breath.

Daylight was only just beginning to creep above the rooftops, and Severus had deliberately chosen the coldest, bitterest December day he could to make his trip. The street was all but deserted. In precisely three minutes, the shops would open. He would storm into the apothecary, get through the stupid meeting with the ridiculous man as quickly as humanly possible, and then disapparate right out of the shop. He didn't care how rude it was. All he wanted was to avoid anyone who might thank him for his 'heroism'; look at him like he was the epitome of tragic romance for having a teenage crush; actually dare to _flirt _with him (of course, the endless speculations about the wealth he had accumulated from his Order of Merlin and private brewing didn't help that problem in the slightest); or, worst of all, take a photograph of him and send it to that pathetic excuse for a newspaper.

He arrived at the door to Slug and Jiggers just as the 'closed' sign magically flipped to 'open'. Imagining himself about to step into a classroom full of new and nervous first years, he slammed the door open with such force it nearly came off its hinges. Perhaps he could _persuade_ Jiggers Jr. that it really would be better all round to continue their business dealings remotely.

* * *

Hermione Granger appeared with a 'pop' into a side street just off Diagon Alley. Straightening her robes, she glanced up and down the main market street. To her left, a spotty-faced teenager was struggling to drag a series of display stands out to the front of Magical Menagerie. Looking right, she saw a woman sweeping the front step of Primpernelle's, wearing a glamour charm so strong she was practically glowing. They were the only two people braving the biting wind however, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She'd be able to make it to Flourish and Blotts without anyone noticing her, and would be back home with a new book without any trouble.

As she took her first step onto the cobbles of Diagon Alley itself, she spotted another character striding down the street. Dressed all in black, with robes billowing behind him, the figure he cut was unmistakable: Professor Snape. Smiling to herself at the thought of at least one constant in the world, Hermione began heading towards the book shop, when she felt something slightly softer than stone under her foot. She bent down to pick it up and examined it. It was a very fine black leather coin pouch, with an intricate pair of entwined 'S'es embossed onto the front. Jumping slightly as a loud bang sounded further up the street, she headed after her former professor.

As she entered the apothecary, she caught sight of him immediately. He was sat to the right of the door on a spindly wooden chair, and although his body was very calm and still, one look at his face would tell anyone who had been a Hogwarts student during his tenure that he was seething. The plump, rosy-cheeked man behind the counter didn't seem to have noticed his customer's displeasure however, as he had chosen to continue humming jovially while he bustled about. Hermione cleared her throat, but Snape ignored her – she could even have sworn he turned his head ever so slightly away from her. Reminding herself that she had lived through far scarier experiences than this, she tentatively tapped him on the shoulder and then took a hurried step back. "Professor Snape, si-"

"What is it you infernal woman!?" he snapped, whipping his head around to glare at her.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but I think you dropped this." Hermione extended her arm as far out as she could, offering the pouch to him. Snape stood to examine it, and then took it and deposited it in his pocket.

He stared at her face for a few moments, evidently realising who she was for the first time, and took a breath. "I... thank you Miss Granger. I am not accustomed to women speaking to me in public without an ulterior mo-" He paused mid-word, his eyes drifting over Hermione's head towards the group of women huddling together as they made their way towards the door of the apothecary. Without warning, he grabbed Hermione forcibly by the arm, and dragged her into a dark and dusty aisle at the very back of the shop. The shelves looked as if they had been left undisturbed for an age, and Hermione briefly wondered whether the ingredients were still even in a usable condition.

Snape pressed one finger to his lips, urging Hermione to remain silent, and gestured with his head to the group who were currently causing the bell at the door to ring shrilly as they entered. Hermione stilled her movements and held her breath. Hiding motionless in dark corners was certainly not something she was unused to, although since the war she had never imagined she would have cause to do so with her former potions professor. Just as she began to contemplate whether it might be wise to disillusion themselves, a bright flashbulb went off inches from her face, leaving her temporarily blind. As her sight began to return, she was greeted by the face of the woman she had hated almost as much as Voldemort himself. Rita Skeeter.

"Well, well," the blonde woman grinned like a Cheshire cat as she surveyed the pair, "what do we have here? Have I stumbled upon a lovers' tryst? Is this how the so-called brightest witch of her age actually managed to achieve her impossibly high grades?" Snape dropped Hermione's arm as though burned, and tried unsuccessfully to put a reasonable amount of distance between them in the narrow alcove they stood in. "Oh, no need to be shy dears. My readers will be very interested to know how the ambitious Miss Granger finally managed to snag a powerful and sought-after wizard. And why the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world would choose such a witch."

The woman's vile quill was scribbling furiously on a notepad over her left shoulder. Snape opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione beat him to it, "You're going to pay for this, _cockroach_. Do you not remember the little agreement we came to? It seems I have a trip to make to the Ministry."

Skeeter's smile faltered slightly at this, but she gathered herself and persevered. "Unfortunately for you Miss Granger, my _beetle_ form has now been registered with the Ministry. So it seems our arrangement must come to an end. Now, let's hear the juicy details. How long has this affair been going on?"

Reeling from the announcement that she no longer held anything over the head of Rita Skeeter, Hermione was unable to form any kind of response. Resigning herself to the knowledge that it didn't matter what she said - the insect would print whatever would sell the most papers - she began to look for an escape route. Their exit was thoroughly blocked though: first by Skeeter and her bulky photographer, and then by the group of women milling about the shop who were beginning to notice the commotion. She looked up at Snape, who had still not said a word, hoping he had some kind of answer to their predicament. As if hearing her thoughts, at that moment he disapparated with a growl, taking Hermione with him.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself in what appeared to be the living room of Severus Snape's home. Her first thought was that it was impeccably clean and tidy, but that was really the only good thing that could be said for it. Everything just looked tired. The furniture was faded and sagging, the carpet had been worn entirely bare in patches, and the portion of kitchen she could see through the open door on her left looked as if it hadn't been updated in fifty years at least. If the _Prophet_'s reports of the size of his Gringott's account held even a sliver of truth, he could surely afford better than this.

She was interrupted from her assessment of her surroundings by Professor Snape throwing himself onto an uncomfortable-looking leather armchair. "In hindsight," he said dryly, "it might not have been wise of us to apparate away together."

"Well I'm grateful you didn't abandon me to deal with those maggots by myself."

Hermione began to rock back and forward on her heels as an awkward silence descended between them. Professor Snape's house was not somewhere she ever thought she would find herself. Nor was Professor Snape someone she had ever even considered the press would link her to romantically.

"You may use my fireplace to floo home Miss Granger. I wouldn't recommend returning to Diagon Alley any time soon. It has been over a month since anyone has managed to photograph me, and no one has ever caught me in... close proximity to a woman. I imagine the next few weeks will be unpleasant for you."

"You don't need to warn me, sir. I've been on the receiving end of the _Prophet_'s... speculations almost constantly for the past five years. And now that Harry's married and Ron's engaged, the nation is apparently on tenterhooks to find out what poor lonely Hermione Granger is going to do with herself." She flashed him a small smile, as a look of understanding passed between them.

"I have my house elf remove the gossip pages from my paper before she brings it to me in a morning. Though I should have guessed you would also be a target."

Sensing that the conversation was over, Hermione stepped into the fireplace. "Well, I imagine I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow then." She suppressed a laugh at his shocked and confused expression, and decided that leaving without an explanation would probably not be appreciated, "in my morning paper, sir." With that, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and disappeared into the flames.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews, follows and favourites! I can't believe the response I've had after only one chapter. Apologies for how long it's taken to get this chapter up, but I've just moved and started my Master's degree so things have been a bit hectic. I'm going to try to make updates more frequent, but I can't promise anything.**

* * *

Hermione had been expecting to receive letters following Skeeter's article: whenever she was mentioned in the _Prophet_ there were always at least a couple of busybodies who felt the need to comment on the way she was living her life. But she could never have prepared herself for the volume of post filling her kitchen. She could barely see her counter tops they were covered so comprehensively, and what looked to be a toppled tower of letters had slid all the way across her table, chairs and onto the floor. How bad _was_ this article?

Scanning the room, she located a bewildered looking tawny owl, with feathers sticking in all directions, cowering behind the toaster. She tossed a few coins into the pouch on its leg, took the _Prophet _from its beak, and then scattered twice the usual number of owl treats in front of it. The owl gobbled them down at a startling pace, and when it was finished it took off immediately and swooped out of the kitchen window.

Now alone, Hermione took a deep breath and unrolled the paper. The photograph of them took up almost the entirety of the front page. Above it, the headline read "TEACHER'S PET?" in a bold, black typeface. In fairness to the seemingly endless letter writers, the photograph was definitely incriminating. Had she not been one of the subjects, Hermione would have made the same assumptions. It looked like he had her pushed up against the shelves, arm pinned above her head. The finger pressed against her mouth in a shushing gesture looked to be teasing her pouting lower lip slightly. If she didn't know better, she would have said that he was staring at her with a fiery, passionate intensity, and she seemed to be gazing almost lovingly up at him. When the flashbulb went off and they leapt apart, they both looked flustered, and a fierce blush rushed to her cheeks. She didn't remember blushing, and nor did she remember being able to feel any of Snape's body against her own. But then everything had happened so quickly.

According to the text under the picture, Rita Skeeter's 'exclusive exposé' began on page three. Began? Hermione turned the page.

"_Two of the Wizarding World's greatest heroes have found love, reporter Rita Skeeter can exclusively reveal. Hermione Granger, 23, and Severus Snape, 42, were spotted in a very intimate position in Slug and Jiggers Apothecary yesterday. The couple clearly couldn't keep their hands off each other, barely making the effort to move to a secluded area of the shop before beginning their tête-à-tête._

"_Mr Jiggers Jr., owner of the apothecary which bore witness to the scene, claims that Mr Snape had an important meeting arranged regarding the supply of ingredients for his potions company. When he met Miss Granger, however, all thoughts of business fell aside in favour of more enjoyable pursuits. The pair shared a passionate exchange (see front page) before disapparating together straight out of the shop._

"_This is the first time the couple have been seen together in public. Miss Granger is, of course, no stranger to powerful wizards. She can count the boy-who-lived-twice Harry Potter, and international Quidditch star Viktor Krum amongst her conquests. She also dated childhood sweetheart Ronald Weasley for two years after the end of the war, but broke his heart when she decided that his vital work as an Auror wasn't exciting enough for her (turn to p. 27 for details of Mr Weasley and finacée Lavender Brown's wedding plans). Mr Snape, on the other hand, is famous for spending the past two decades devoted to the memory of his first love Lily Potter, née Evans. Has the former headmaster of Hogwarts managed to move on from the woman he very nearly sacrificed his life for? And can Miss Granger ever live up to the memory of a woman so beloved by all?_

"_Sources close to the couple claim that this match was inevitable. No one in the country can match their intelligence or thirst for knowledge. They have also both chosen to live quiet lives since the War, rarely making public appearances except at official events. Concerns are growing however about when the relationship began. The pair first met at Hogwarts, where Mr Snape was Miss Granger's teacher for six years. Is it possible that Miss Granger's reputation for academic brilliance comes not from talent or hard work, but rather from the company she kept as a student?"_

Hermione couldn't read any more of the drivel. The article continued across four further pages, discussing the history of their interactions, the details of their respective involvements in the wars, the compatibility of their characters, and a string of opinion pieces from wizards and witches 'close to the couple', of whom Hermione recognised none. The pages were littered with photographs of each of them individually, and the article ended with a picture from the Yule Ball which Hermione had never seen before. Both she and Professor Snape were in the frame, but it must have been the only other picture they could find of the two of them, because they were about as far away from each other as it was possible to be.

Realising that her friends would also have received their copies of the _Prophet _by now, Hermione headed into the lounge and knelt at her fireplace to Floo call Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ginny appeared in front of her immediately, both looking slightly queasy. None of them spoke for a moment, and then Hermione cleared her throat to break the silence, "I take it you've seen the _Prophet_?"

"Hermione, you know we love you, and we'll always support you, but... er... we were just, sort of, wondering... why? Sorry, that's a bit rude, you don't need to answer that, what about... um... how? Or maybe... when?" Harry broke eye contact with his friend, giving up his attempt at questioning her.

"It's not what it looks like," Hermione replied hastily, but both Potters still looked doubtful.

Patting her husband on the arm, Ginny took over, "It looks like he has you pinned against a wall and is about to take you there and then. And that you're going to let him. I'm struggling to see how that could be mistaken for something else. If it wasn't Snape, it would actually be pretty hot."

Harry mimed gagging behind Ginny's back, and Hermione shot her a disapproving look. "I know the photograph looks really, really, bad, but they must have just found a horribly misleading angle because it didn't happen like that."

"You know, we're not going to judge you. And we won't tell anyone if you want to keep it a secret. We just want you to be happy." Harry said with a sympathetic smile.

Hermione let out a sigh of frustration: if it was this difficult to convince her friends that nothing was going on, the rest of the wizarding world would never believe her. "Until yesterday, I hadn't seen Professor Snape in years! I was just returning something he dropped. And then I'm not really sure what happened, but we were hiding from some people and Skeeter just appeared out of nowhere. After all the lies she's told, do you really think that _this _is the story that sounds like it might contain some truth?"

Ginny surveyed her friend, pursing her lips, "So nothing's going on between you and Snape? You promise?"

"Of course nothing's going on!"

Ginny seemed to accept this, and visibly relaxed. Bending down closer to the fireplace, she grinned and said, "Well that's a big bloody relief! How's the hate mail going?"

"I've not actually opened any of it yet. But there's a lot. Way more than I've ever had before."

Harry checked his watch, "We promised Ron and Lavender that we'd help them with some wedding stuff today, but we can cancel if you need us."

"No, don't cancel. That's actually really good. Could you tell everyone you see that it's all a lie? I'd at least like the Weasleys to know that it's not true. You can come over this evening if you're not busy though. I'll treat you to fish and chips."

"Sounds great, about seven?"

"I'll see you then." Hermione withdrew from the fireplace and returned to the kitchen. Flicking the kettle on, she sat down to open the first letter. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

The sun was already beginning to set when Hermione opened the last letter. She had worked her way through almost an entire packet of chocolate digestives, and had lost count of how many cups of tea she'd drunk. After a brief scan of the parchment in her hand, she set it down on the 'long and boring' pile. Grabbing the 'hilariously funny' pile, she took them into the living room and dropped them on the coffee table ready to show Harry and Ginny. There were still more than three hours until her friends would arrive, and she was desperate to talk to someone about everything she'd read. The thought suddenly occurred to Hermione that there was someone in exactly the same situation as her. She sat down at her great grandmother's old writing desk, and began to compose a letter.


End file.
